Stranger
by ShadowWolf181
Summary: After their parents die from a fatal car crash, it is now Joey Wheeler's responsibility to protect his ailing sister. But who is going to protect him when help comes in the form of a handsome devil harboring a dark past? A story for mature adults only. Thanks!


**Prologue**

October 28, 2009, Friday, 10:55 PM.

Five year old Mokuba Kaiba sat against the headboard of his bed, knees pulled up to his chest in a fetal position. He could hear the muffled screams coming from down the hall, but he dare not move. He stayed absolutely still, wanting to cover his ears but aware of how futile the action would have been; it would not block out the inhuman sounds. His foster parents weren't home. They had decided to take a break from their parental duties and were absent all evening, enjoying their time together at the cinema and then a fancy restaurant afterward. It was then that Mokuba wished he could have joined them, in spite of his ill feelings toward them. They held no idea of what was happening behind these walls. Perhaps it was for the best. If they ever discovered what Mokuba had the great misfortune of having had discovered on that fateful day, then it would give them a reason to call the cops just to finally get rid of them for good.

The screams had suddenly altered into something more disturbing. Mokuba knew what was going on a few rooms over. He knew all of it was _his _doing. He also knew he shouldn't have risen from the bed, carefully making his way down the dark and seemingly endless hallway. But something beckoned him, an inner calling like in a dream. A magnetic force one simply could not deflect. A morbid fascination. In his quaking hands Mokuba clutched Mokie even tighter to his chest. The old, fluffy brown teddy bear had provided a false sense of security to its insecure owner. The door in question was currently within Mokuba's sights. In the past there was nothing eerie or unusual about it—it was just an average door. However… the secrets that lay beyond this door had, over time, warped its appearance altogether. Those noises though… they made Mokuba cringe, they turned his warm blood into freezing ice. Based off the desperate gagging, _he _must have been choking him. Or perhaps his _guest _was drowning in their own bodily fluids.

Mokuba's hand slowly reached out for the doorknob…

_Don't open the door. Don't open the door. Whatever you do… __**don't open that door**__._

Dammit, he opened the door! As always he regretted doing so.

~X~

Thirteen year old Seto Kaiba stood at the edge of the king sized bed in undisturbed silence. He always did enjoy inspecting his work after he finished. Because of his brother's position, Mokuba couldn't see the guest's body in its entirety. Lucky him. But he could see the fresh blood that oozed along the guest's legs that hung limply over the side of the bed, and then quickly trickled onto the plastic sheet covering the designer carpet below. He could smell the aroma of death and faded pain that permeated just about every piece of furniture that witnessed the ghastly crime. Could still hear the muffled cries and wretched choking. _Everything_ about this room assaulted Mokuba's senses, unsettling him to the extreme. And his foster parents lived in it. How the hell did they not smell the killings day after day? Not hear the distant cries or see the signs before them? Those poor stupid bastards. It's true what they say: Ignorance is bliss.

However, none of that mattered at the moment. Even with his back to him, Mokuba already knew what expression Seto bore on his bloodstained face. Sick bastard was pleased with himself, a horrendous smile unlike any Mokuba had ever seen on his elder brother was gradually spreading, nearly reaching from ear to ear if it could. If the Joker's smile and the Cheshire Cat's smile had a baby… well, that's probably what it would look like. Mokuba _really _didn't want to say anything, didn't want to break the god-awful silence… but it had to be done.

"B-Big Br-brother…?" he stammered miserably.

The creepy-ass smile shrunk on itself (thank God for that) as Seto turned around to acknowledge his little brother's presence. Aside from the drying blood that decorated his cheek, and the stern, deadpan gaze from those unfaltering topaz eyes, Seto had some semblance of the brother Mokuba had always adored (and to a certain extent still adores) and looked up to. After what felt like a thousand years, Seto finally addressed his younger sibling.

"Mokuba… why are you still awake? Can't sleep?"

Mokuba opened his mouth as if to respond, but shook his head instead while staring up at Seto from behind Mokie, like a timid child. His brother thought it was rather endearing. And though he knew it was wrong, _very _wrong, Seto briefly wondered how his baby brother would react to being physically and sexually tortured. But not him, no never _him_. He had promised against his own will, made a quiet vow to never harm Mokuba. Of course… his little brother didn't have to know that. Seto knew that Mokuba was secretly afraid that he would one day kill him too, and Seto had no intention of causing him to believe otherwise. So he would continue to dance on his sibling's fear and massive uncertainty… until one of them yielded. As Seto started to approach Mokuba, he made the mistake of accidentally stumbling over a shoe his foolish foster mother had forgotten to put away earlier (and he foolishly failed to take notice of before), allowing Mokuba to receive a better view of the dead body.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

He screamed at the top of his lungs. The guest, whose face had been mutilated beyond recognition, his lithe physique beaten, broken and ripped open to reveal the muscles and bones that hid underneath the once beautiful covering… it soon transitioned into a blurry, almost unrecognizable image as thick tears welled up in Mokuba's dark eyes. And the blood. God… there must've been enough to fill a tub. Seto merely scoffed, more at the five year olds' outrageous reaction than his own clumsiness. He casually walked over to Mokuba, who now had his back against the wall as if he could disappear into it, and lowered himself to his eye level, blocking off the youngster's view of the gruesome corpse. Seto loudly smacked his hands against the wall, one deliberate movement that caused Mokuba to flinch and entrap the small child. Fleeing was not an option provided before him, but it was all Mokuba could think about as he stared at Seto, his feet cemented in place by the threat that flashed within the teen's cold eyes. Why did he have to open the damn door? Why couldn't he just have stayed in bed and tried to ignore everything?

"Uh-oh… little Mokuba saw something he wasn't supposed to. _Again_." Seto practically purred. He licked his lips with that feline tongue of his, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

"What did you do to him?" he whispered. The question had erupted from Mokuba's mouth before he could reel it back in. He shouldn't have asked, wondered what the hell had possessed him to conjure up the query in the first place. Too late to feel guilt now.

"You should have stayed in your room like I told you, baby brother. If you hadn't disobeyed you wouldn't have seen this. I'm disappointed Mokuba. You've been a naughty little boy tonight."

The smile had vanished from Seto's face, replaced by a fearsome scowl. At this point Mokuba was crying uncontrollably, in fear for his life.

"I-I'm sorry, B-Big Brother. I'm s-so s-s-sorry! I-I-I'll be good. I'll b-be a go-good boy… I pr-promise!" he wailed and stuttered, wiping away the streaks of snot onto Mokie's soft fur.

Seto sighed. He couldn't stand blubbering brats. He touched Mokuba's wet, tear-streaked cheek, gently stroking it like a consoling mother. For a while it worked. The little one was starting to calm down. The same hand that soothed him had slithered its way into Mokuba's dense and wild black hair, its fingers interweaving with the untamed mane.

"Oww!" Mokuba yelped in pain as his brother yanked hard on his hair, forcing his small head back at an almost neck-breaking angle.

"Does it hurt, Moku?" Seto susurrated his brother's nickname, unaffected by Mokuba's weak pleas to stop or the choking noises he made as he attempted to swallow. "It'll hurt even more if you ever tell anyone about what you've seen. Of that I can promise you. No matter. You won't tell anyone… right, Moku?"

"N… no…" he managed to say as the tears began to roll again.

Mokuba coughed, sucking in large gulps of air as Seto slowly released his rough grip on him. He smiled then, reassured by his younger brother's word. The innocent child was trembling terribly, his light colored pajamas plastered to his ghostly white skin from the perspiration that seeped through his pores. Seto was trembling too… but for a reason far different than Mokuba's.

"That's a good boy," he said, erasing the leftover tears from his brother's cheeks. "Just for being good I'm going to get you that Dark Magician costume you always wanted for Halloween. How does that sound?"

Mokuba sniffed and forced a small smile on his face for his brother's sake. This was the Seto Kaiba he loved, the one that tried to make him happy even if meant sacrificing his time and energy and the little cash he would save up from odd jobs he volunteered for on occasion.

"Ok Big Brother," he replied quietly.

Seto nodded his head once, satisfied. Brats were so easy to please. Just give them what they want. He turned his back to Mokuba, carefully examining the scene laid out before them. Their foster parents would each catch heart-attacks if they ever discovered what was happening—what had been happening—inside this precious home of theirs. Part of Seto wanted them to know. Give him a reason to finally slit their greedy throats and take Mokuba away from this hellhole.

_Soon… soon we'll be free little brother…_

"C'mon Moku," he said without bothering to look at his brother. "Let's get rid of this mess."

Mokuba obeyed. Reluctantly. What else could he do? At least Seto was nice enough to deal with the minutes-old corpse. It had started to smell of dried blood and decay. While they diligently worked all was silent, aside from the rustling of plastic and bed sheets being removed along with the body. How in heaven would they explain this? Will there be anything left to explain? Would their foster parents even notice? Of one thing Mokuba was certain…

He would _never_ forget this night. Or the fact that the one person he loved more than anyone in this world was—and always will be—a bloodthirsty killer.


End file.
